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UNITY. 


A  Weekly  Journal  of 

Freedonj,   Fellowship  and   Character  in 
Religion, 


Jenkin  Lloyd  Jones, 
David  N.  Utter,  -&    •-,     ,   r  7 ., 

James  Vila  Blake,  Resident 

Jabez  T.  Sunderland, 


Associate  Editors. 

W.  C  Gannett,                J.  C.  Learned, 
F.  L.  Hosmer,                 H.  M.  Simmons, 
C.  W.  Wendte, 


Chas.  H.  Kerr,  Office  Editor. 


TTNITY  seeks  to  adjust  religion  and  culture; 
^  to  make  thought  worshipful  and  worship 
thoughtful;  to  find  a  unity  beneath  conflicting 
dogmas,  a  community  in  all  denominations, 
a  sympathy  between  all  religions.  If  seeks 
to  represent  and  emphasize  the  abiding  ele- 
ments of  religion — love,  justice,  truth,  wor- 
ship, practically  applied  among  all  men. 


PUBLISHED    EVERY    SATURDAY    BY 

The  Colegrove  Book  Co., 

135  Wabash  Avenue,  Chicago. 

$1.50  per  "ZTesjx. 


UNITY 
SONGS  RESUNG 


■ 

UNITY 


f   7 


SONGS   RESUNG 


MP  I  LED  B  )       .    //.   A'. 


CHICAGO 
THE  COLEGROVE  I         C  COMPANY 

133  Wabash  A 

M 


COPYRIGHT   BY 

CHARLES  H.  KERR 

1885 


Soft  in   1111/  i  a   /// 

on    a   sir  1 1  ; 

'  of  a  mystic  choir, 
I  in  parabk  : 

••  9i  ing  I  in  the  Soul*  a, 

"  Sj,<  ak  I  to  the  Sout) 

••  J.  d  the  South*: tit  Shot 
"  Shout  in  t       m. 

fod  built  me 

ng  era  d  ; 

UW        I  h)j  the  ebb  flow, 

u  Wave  i    cL 

to  thyself  a 
"I.        to  the  high         ill, 

u  Eat  the  oil  R, 

Lo  :   I  am  ally 

John  Tub 


NOTE. 

The  poems  in  the  present  collection 
were  published  in  Unity  between  De- 
cember, 1879,  and  March,  1885.  Thanks 
are  due  to  the  several  authors  for  their 
kind  permission  to  use  their  verses  in  this 
volume;  and  the  right  to  republish  sepa- 
rate poems  is  in  each  case  reserved  to  the 
author. 

In  justice  to  all  concerned,  the  compiler 
would  say  that  while  he  has  gladly  prof- 
ited by  the  advice  of  the  editors  of  Unity 
and  others,  he  is  still  solely  responsible 
for  the  selection  and  arrangement  of  all 
contained  in  the  following  pages. 


"GREEN   PASTURES   AND  STILL 
WATERS." 

deal  in  memory's  silent  i 
Lie  the  pastures  I  have  E 

than  the  sun-lit 
Where  the  May  has  flung  fa  i  : 

La  no  son  and  needs  no  star-light 
To  illume  I  fields  of  1 

►r  the  glory  i  f  dead  fao 
Js  the  sun,  the  sti  i  I,  thai  bJ 

More  than  one  I  count  my  pai  iuros 

my  I  ath  groweth  l<>ng  ; 

By  their  quirt  wal        braying 

Oft  I  lay  m-  I  am  *. 

And  I  call  each  by  its  trw 

And  the  dear  names  bring  to  them 
Glory  as  from  shin  in 

In  some  new  Jen         a. 


10  GREEN  PASTURES. 

Yet,  O  well  I  can  remember, 

Once  I  called  my  pastures,  Pain  ; 
And  their  waters  were  a  torrent 

Sweeping  through  my  life  amain  ! 
Now  I  call  them  Peace  and  Stillness, 

Brightness  of  all  Haj^py  Thought, 
Where  I  ringer  for  a  blessing 

From  my  faces  that  are  naught. 

Naught  ?     I  fear  not !     If  the  Power 

Maketh  thus  his  pastures  green, 
Maketh  thus  his  quiet  waters, 

Out  of  waste  his  heavens  serene, 
I  can  trust  the  mighty  Shepherd 

Loseth  none  he  ever  led  ; 
Somewhere  yet  a  greeting  waits  me 

On  the  faces  of  my  dead  ! 

W.  C.  Gannett. 


THE   CREED. 

Who  ever  was  begot  tm  by  pure  love 
And  came  desired  and  welcome  into  life 
fa  of   I:,1:     ul ate  Conception.     He 
Whose  heart  swells  full  of  tenderness  and 

trust, 
Who  loves  mankind  more  than  ho  lov 

himself, 
I  oan  not  find  room  in  his  heart  for 

hate, 
May  be  another  Christ :  we  all  I         be 
The  Saviors  of  the  world,  if  we  believe 
I  i  the  Divinity  which  dwells  ID  U 
And    worship    It,   and   nail   our  grosser 

Our  temj>er8,  greeds,  and  our  unworthy 

ins 
U}H)ii  .ss«     Who  h  lovo  to  all, 


12  THE  CREED. 

Pays  kindness  for  unkindness,  smiles  for 

frowns, 
And  lends  new  courage  to  each  fainting 

heart, 
And  strengthens  hope,  and  scatters  joy 

abroad, 
He,  too,  is  a  Redeemer,  Son  of  God. 

Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 


FATHER,   TO  THEE. 

Father,  to  Thee  wo  look  in  all  our  sorrow, 
Thou  art  the  fountain  whence  our  Ik 
ing  flows; 
Dark  t!         b  the  night,  joy  cometh  with 
the  mot  ow; 
Safely  they  rest  who  on  thy  love  repose. 

When  fond  hopes  fail,  and  skies  are  dark 
before  us, 

'ion  the  vain  cares  that  vex  our  life 
- 
Conies  with  its  calm  the  thought  that  thou 
art  <>Yr  us, 
And  we  grow  quirt,  folded  in  thy  j 

Tright  us  on  thy  goodness 

!•  Si 

Low  in  the  heart  faith  singeth  still  her 

song; 


14  FATHER,  TO  THEE. 

Chastened  by  pain  we  learn  life's  deeper 
meaning, 
And  in  our  weakness  thou  dost  make  us 
strong. 

Patient,  0  heart,  though  heavy  be  thy 

sorrows ! 

Be  not  cast  down,  disquieted  in  vain ; 

Yet  shalt  thou  praise   Him  when  these 

darkened  furrows, 

Where  now   He   ploweth,   wave  with 

golden  grain. 

F.  L,  Hosmer. 

August,  1881. 


WAIT   ON   THE   LORD. 

Wait  011  th<*  Lordl     I>  lOd  courage  an-1  He 

-     eogtikeo   thy   heart.     Wait.   I 
!.      l'-alm  xxvii.  14. 

Upon  the  Psalmist's  word 
A  Rabbin's  voice  ifl  heard 
Commenting,  saying 
To  soiils  praying, 

>m  ora; 
Veniei 

I  !  ;  "s  spoooh 

ie  fair  oh — 

M  Later  deer  u>  heart, 
far  apart, 
.  bo  high  abo 

t  with  lowly  m< 
Living,  in  toil  and  pain, 


16  WAIT  ON  THE  LORD. 

In  meekness  and  in  love. 

He  saith,  "  Ask,  it  shall  be  given; 

Seek,  ye  shall  find  in  heaven; 

Knock,  it  shall  opened  be." 

But  not  so  sweet  to  know 

The  Master's  lips  have  spoken  thus  or  so 

As  ray  soul  leaps  to  see 

He  speaketh  like  to  all  the  holy  men : 

And  softly  comes  again, 

Like  an  echo  in  my  ear, 

The  song  of  Hebrew  seer, 

"  Or  a, 

Et  iterum  ova ; 

Veniet  hora 

Qua  tibi  ddbitur" 

O  when  the  soul  is  faint, 

Y/heD  visions  die, 

When  life  is  wrecked  upon  complaint, 

And  scattered  lie 

Hope's  arrows — years  long, 

With  purpose  strong, 

Kept  bound  within  one  sheaf — ■ 

When  pain  and  loss  and  grief 

Prey  on  us, 

When  thought  and  doubt  and  love 


WAIT  ON   THE  LOR  Ik  17 

Weigh  on  us. 

Then  hear,  all  sounds  abo\ 

uOrot 

Kt  it< 

Vi  ni>  t  hora 

i  tibi  dabitur." 

James  Vila  Blake. 


LOYALTY. 

When  courage  fails,  and  faith  burns  low, 

And  men  are  timid  grown, 
Hold  fast  thy  loyalty,  and  know 

That  Truth  still  moveth  on. 

For  unseen  messengers  she  hath 

To  work  her  will  and  ways, 
And  even  human  scorn  and  wrath 

God  turneth  to  her  j>raise. 

She  can  both  meek  and  lordly  be, 

In  heavenly  might  secure  ; 
With  her  is  pledge  of  victory, 

And  patience  to  endure. 

The  race  is  not  unto  the  swift, 

The  battle  to  the  strong, 
When  dawn  her  judgment-days  that  sift 

The  claims  of  right  and  wrong. 


LOYALTY.  1\) 

1  D10IQ  than  thou  can<t  do  for  Truth 
I     n  she  on  tl 
If  thou,  0  heart,  bo!  give  thy  youth 
An  I  manhood  unto  bet. 

she  can  rnak  ly  b right, 

T  lf-love  purgi 

1  thee  in  the]  .ith  whoa       hi 

Shim  the  perfi 

Who  follow  her,  though  men  deride, 

i  her  strength  shall  be  strong; 
Shall  heir  shame  become  their  priJr. 

And  share  her  triumph-song! 

F.  L.  Hosm< 


"NOT  AS  I  WILL." 

With  eyes  undimmed  by  mist  of  tears 

I  try  to  pierce  the  corning  years 

And  read  through  all  the  doubts  and  fears 

My  onward  way. 
I  see  the  cross  I  needs  must  bear, 
So  near,  that  round  me  all  the  air 
Is  heavy  with  a  weight  of  care, 
That  clouds  the  day. 

I  had  a  thought  that  Love  divine 
Destined  this  wavering  heart  of  mine 
For  worship  at  a  nobler  shrine 

Than  self  alone; 
And  evermore  the  longing  grew 
For  inner  life  more  pure  and  true — 
More  joy  in  duties  old  and  new 

Than  I  had  known. 


NOT  AS  1   Wll  /..  21 

With  fa  d  toward  the  \ ' 

I  fcried  to  i         ton  the  way, — 

Bi 

I 
It  i  ill, 

So  dulled  with  fear  were  heart  and  will 
By  t:  d  sudden  ehill 

Of  bitter  \u> 

I  felt  that  if  I  stn  ;  mv  I 

.  in  all  the  lai 
i  one  more  desolate  would         d, 

I. — 
That  all  my  th< 

■ 
Of  mental  growth,  i  i  t   bound  hv   <• 
Must  f.  i id  dj 

To  take,  m  ri  itisi  1 

A:    1  p]       3  for  BCtdOD  all  forgot 

M 

By  d         of  go 
I  ton  tld  n« 

The  cross,  hut  strove 
To  make  my  HI  I  free 

As  ' 


22  NOT  AS  I  WILL. 

Yet  all  the  time  a  vague  unrest 
Dwelt  in  my  heart,  though  unconfessed, 
And  that  strange  fear  within  my  breast 

"Would  never  cease; — 
Till  now  at  last  I  dimly  see 
That  God  has  sent  this  cross  to  me, 
And  bearing  it  all  patiently 

May  bring  me  peace. 

I  do  not  cheat  my  heart  and  say, — 
"  Perhaps  this  grief  may  pass  away," 
I  know  in  all  my  life  that  day 

Can  never  come ; 
But  now  I  see  with  eyes  more  clear 
Unnumbered  blessings  left  me  here — 
These  kindly  faces,  love  most  dear, 

A  quiet  home. 

Perhaps  some  day  I  yet  may  own 
That  this  same  cross  I  bear  alone 
Has  led  me  in  a  way  unknown 
To  something  higher — 
And  wonder  why,  so  weak  and  blind, 
I  strove  against  this  message  kind : 
"  Best  in  the  Lord,  and  thou  shalt  find 
Thy  heart's  desire." 
1882.  Emma  E.  Marean. 


TRUSTING. 

U  of  tin'  n  ;  tree 

A I  .  with  .  : 

Th  high  aiu^  *uo  wind  blew 

In 

But]  rta  were  afraid.     Did 

they  know 

That  not  a  wayward  sparrow  should  fall 
»  the  earth,  but  the  Father  was  in  it  all; 
1  that  their  home  was  as  true  a  ]>. 
Of  the    plan    of  the  univ  fixed  and 

high, 
A-  U  is  that  shone  from  the  distant 

The  wind  may  lay  the  forest  low: 

No  harm  can  C  to  t!  they  know, 

1  the  Over-Heart 

I 


IN  THE  KING'S  NAME. 

"In  the  King's  name!"  'will  say 

Some  day  the  Shadow  grim. 

And  we  all  silently 

Shall  straightway  follow  him, 

Rending  the  veil  away ; 

"  As  through  a  glass  "  to  see 

No  more,  with  vision  dim. 

What  shall  our  eyes  behold 

When  once  that  veil  is  lift  ? 

A  new  Jerusalem 

With  radiant  walls  that  sift 

Heaven's  glory  through  many  a  gem, 

With  shining  streets  of  gold 

And  the  angels  walking  in  them  ? 

Or  will  the  heavenly  scene 
Be  such  as  here  we  know  ? — 
The  heavenly  mansions  be, 
Perchance  not  all  aglow 


TN  THE  KI  XAME.  25 

With  gold  and  n — 

'ih  love  (}<<it  i 
//'//•-  ore— below! 

Dear  Lord,  if  this  might  be! — 

it  it  might  be  t'         :ne 
Dear  homo  that  in  bygone  days 

Earth  bd  EcLbd  below! — 
How  gladly  wonld  I  go 
Wheo  t      E  tadow  with  veiH         e 
ide  come  M  Iu  the  King's  Nai 

Alice  Williams  B\  >n. 


DEATH. 

Why  should  we  tremble  at  the  thought  of 
death  ? 
Is  living,  then,  such  fair,  unblemished 

bliss, 
That  with  such  misery  we  press  the 
kiss 
The  last  upon  the  lips  that  have  no  breath  ? 

Is  living,  then,  such  unalloyed  delight, 
That  when  we  lay  the  lifeless  form  away, 
The  form  that  now  is  naught  but  sense- 
less clay, 

We  feel  such  grief  as  darkens  all  the  light  ? 

Is  life,  O  heart,  a  great  and  priceless  boon 
That  we  should  lay  it  down  with  grief 
and  fear  ? 


DEATH, 

Are  sou  gs  so  free  bom  jar  and  disc* 
be 

We  cannot  change  them  tor  b  heavenly 

tune? 

\  forgive  us  for  our  blind  distal 
lohusthi  hardest]       q  of  our  life — 
-inn :  teach  us  death  i        all  the 
Btri 

w  life  springs,  like  violets,  I 
du 

Fanny  DriscoU, 


THE    OLD   QUESTION. 


ITT 


vVhat  sign  of  dumb  entreaty  lies  within 
Those  pale  hands  crossed  in  death ; 

What  answer  would  those  cold  mute  lips 
let  fall 
If  given  sudden  breath  ?  . 

What  light  of  wondrous  meaning  breaks 
upon 
That  closely-lidded  eye ; 
What   great  and    untold  mystery  hides 
behind 
The  simple  phrase — To  die  ? 

Celia  P.  Woolley. 


THE  OLD  ANSWER  TO  THE  OLD 
QUESTION. 

sign  of  dumb  entreaty  v.  ill  be  seen 
When  my  hands  c  ith; 

Nor  with  new  breath  OOuld  I  an  ansv 
give 
More  wondrous  than  this  breath. 

t  of  meaning  then  will  break  upon 
B£y  olosely-lidde  1  ej 
Nor  rayi         hide  behind)  more  wand 

ful 

Ti  re  I  dl 

Friend,  I  tell  thee  in  thine  and  erecy 

fa 

An  idlooo 

Win  »i  .         o  take  them  in  the  eje  opes 

wi 

It  sweeps  bed 


30  THE  OLD  ANSWER, 


"What  things  come  but  are  hidden  in  what 
go? 
What  go,  but  draw  what  come  ? 
Food  is  the  rock's  heart,  light   darkles, 
song  is  whist, 
And  very  speech  sounds  dumb. 

James  Vila  Blake, 


MY  DEAD. 

I  cannot  think  of  them  as  da 
Who  walk  with  re; 

path  of  Life  T  tread, 

They  have  but  gone  befoi 

The  Father's  house  is  mansioned  f. 
Beyond  my  vision  di 

All  souls  are  his,  and  here  or  there, 
Are  living  unto  him. 

And  still  their  silent  ministry 

Within  my  heart  hath  ] 
As  when  on  earth  they  walked  with  me 
And  met  me  face  to  be 

Their  lives  are  made  forever  mil 

What  they  to  me  I        been 
Bath  1-  Ft  I         forth  its  seal  and  sign 

I  '•'"•;  -  •  Q  de  p  within. 


32  MY  DEAD. 

Mine  are  they  by  an  ownership 

Nor  time  nor  death  can  free ; 

For  God  hath  given  to  Love  to  keep 

Its  own  eternally. 

F.  L.  Hosmer 


•  VXD   ENOCH   WALKED   WITH 
GOD." 

O  thou,  who  in  time's  morning  walk 

with  God, 
r  heeded  that  the  world-paths  cross,   i 

thine  own. 
Who.  listening  to  the  music  shed  abroad 
By  that  One  Voice,  heard  not  the  other's 

b  me 
Mocking  at  him  who  walked,  or  seen 

to  walk  alone — 

Tell  us,  who  long  to  know,  what  converse 
sweet 

Foil  from   your  lips,  what  troubled  ques- 
tions lay 

and    clear   ere   thou    could-t 
frame  them  meet, 

In  that  bright  light  of  Truth,  the  Perf 
Day, 

Where  tangled  pr<  >1  ilemfl  smooth  and  solve 
then  l  BWI 


34  ENOCH. 

Didst  know  what  field-flowers  fluttered 

'neath  the  hem 
Of  thy  long  garment,  or  what  birds  of 

song 
Circled  around  thee,  or  what  light  wind 

came, 
Lifting  thy  locks,  the  while  ye  walked 

along, 
Seen  and  unseen,  the  marveling   world 

among ! 

Vain   questioning!   for   answer   as   thou 

mightst, 
Our  ears  are  holden  that  we  may  not  hear ; 
The  soul  that  walks  with  God  upon  the 

heights 
Hath  secrets  voiceless  to  the  ah  en  ear  ; 
To  him  who  is  of  God,  the  things  of  God 

are  clear. 

Mary  W.  Plummer. 


OUTWARD  BOUND. 

Ho,  vessel  outward  bound. 
B   dingon  With  newr  sound 

Of  plashing  oar  or  creaking  sail! 

Whither  art  thou  going? 
Toward  the  Unknown  Shore 

Many  ships  have  Cared  baton 
Bui  no  retaining  g; 

From  that  land  is  blowing! 

Alas!  of  any  part 

Of  that  OOean  t:  hart; 

Unseen  hands  upon  the  rodder 

Through  the  drift  and  wrack 
Guide  the  vessel  on  her  way, 

Underneath  this  sky  of  pivy; 

And  thy  Captain  with  sealed  orders 
Is  upon  the  track. 


36  OUTWARD  BOUND. 

Mariner,  dost  thou  not  fear  ? 
Waves  are  high  and  skies  are  drear. 

Who  can  tell  what  unknown  danger 

Thy  frail  bark  may  whelm  ? 
"  Nay,  no  evil  shall  betide 
Though  the  sea  be  deep  and  wide, 

Hope  Divine's  my  Captain,  stranger, 

Faith  is  at  the  helm." 

"  Sealed  our  orders  ?     But  no  less 
This  much  of  the  truth  we  guess — 

That  we  seek  a  port  Elysian, 

City  of  the  Blest. 
Far  beyond  this  Outre  Mer 
Lies  a  land  surpassing  fair, 

Faith  hath  seen  it  in  rapt  vision, 

Men  call  it  Heavenly  Rest! " 

Alice  Williams  Brotherton. 


THE  HEART   PRATER 

Oh  God,  Thy  power  an  J  gentleness 
<>\vr  all  to  guide  and  Mess; 

l'i  all  I  know  Thy  love  fa  shown 
Uut  more  in  that  to  rne  unknown. 

a  gentlest  Bong  at  close  of  il 
H  untie  r  far 

r  may  h»  ar.     But  v.  dcel 
lies  to  T        m  et  dear. 

y  shines  in  glory,  down  for  d 
Bn  i  dost  know  a  milder  light: 

deep 

_,ring  apon  it-  m  broaoi  . 

iiiLT  i'         "  | 

Tim,  rase  to  bri 

Thy  .-pint's  gentle  shadowing. 


38  THE  HEART  PRAYER. 

Mysterious  whisperings  where  I  go 
Speak  in  the  days  of  good  and  ill : 
Whisperings  from  Thee.    I  bow,  and  grow 
Obedient  to  Thy  unknown  will. 

Oh  God,  help  all  to  pray !  and  then 
Help  most  the  heart  too  sore  to  say, 
uThy  will,  not  mine,  be  done.     Amen." 

J.  N.  Sprigg, 


BEFORE   THE   DAWN. 

Dear  Lord,  I  bring  to  TL- 
life  that  from  Thine  own  its  being 
d 
Ail  I  have  been,  all  aspirations  new, 
All  I  ma;.  I 

I  lay  at  Thy  clear  feet 

Bfy  past,  with  all  its  hopes  and  cares  and 

purj  tailed  like  broken  n  • 

Its  record  inoomplei 

This  tangled  v..  1.  of  ml 
\V1  I  little  g<  <  <1  or  fair. 

Mav  yet,  if  busted  t<.  T!  y  I 
on  a  lighl  drrii 

T\         ary  sens-  of 
Which  through  the  1.  .ne,  long  niurh:  iiiain- 

teined  its 


40  BEFORE  THE  DAWN. 

Has  vanished  in  the  light  of   breaking 
day, 

And  left  instead  a  song. 

And  "  through  the  glass  "  I  see 
That  even  my  mistakes,  my  faults  and 

sins, 
Have  taught  me  how  Thy  comforting  be- 
gins 

And  shown  the  way  to  Thee. 

My  future,  Lord,  I  bring— 
May  it  be  purified  by  Thy  dear  love, 
Although  the  sacred  baptism  from  above 

Be  one  of  suffering. 

"What  harm  can  ever  come 
To   us,  who  know  Thy  love  can  have  no 

end? 
Thou  leadest  us,  an  ever-present  Friend, 

Unto  the  light  of  Home. 

How  all  these  wrongs  we  see 
Can  lead  to  right,  I  do  not  understand; 
But,  e'er  the  daylight  breaks, I  clasp  Thy 
hand 

And  trust  myself  to  Thee. 

Emma  E.  Marean, 


WATER   LILIES. 

DpoD  the  surface  of  the  river  lie 

White  water  lilies;  left  to  drift  they  seem, 

V.-r  changing  winds  and  currents   th 

f.v- 

may  my  faith,  deep-rooted, rest  secure 
Upon  the  surface  of  life1  uoing stream, 
And 

du 

]Vm.  S.  Lord, 


VICTORY  THROUGH  SUFFERING. 

The  breeze  that  over  Calvarv  blew, 

And  caught  the  Sufferer's  tender  prayer 
Still  breathes  and  echoes  in  the  air, 

"Forgive!  they  know  not  what  they  do!" 

"Who  then  will  say  that  men  should  mourn, 
And  mourn  as  one  without  a  hope, 
When,  falling  on  the  upward  slope, 

They   seem   like  dead  leaves  downward 
borne? 

"Who  constant  mount  are  not  the  men 
Who  know  the  nobleness  of  Hfe; 
But  they   who   beauty  learn  through 
strife, 
And  they  who  fall  to  rise  again. 

James  H.  West. 


CHRIST   "  REJECTED.*1 
y,  not  rejected— bat  andeifiecL 

The  miracle  loft  out  (»f  niv  belief. 
I  find  him  gp        r  comfort  in  my  ^riof, 
>rinir  him  even  closer  to  my  side. 

"  He  was  mortal,  own  as  am  T, 
And  yet  bo  God-like,  may  not  I  control 
My  earthly  nature,  and  lift  up  my  soul 
1  » Christ's  own  perfect  standard,  if  I  try': 

I  hold  that  Ho  stands  nearer  to  all  men 
Anl  tills  a  higher  and  more  useful  pL 

i    when    He   wore  a  su]>eruatuni) 

"What  man  has  done,  that  man  may  do 
again." 

y  not  that  I  reject  Him.     He  is        i — 

My  spirit  Lruide,  my  counsel,  and  my 

-- 
fcrerl  .  by  far,  than  any  <>th«  r. 

mortal  man?      Y>  3,  in  8. 

Ella  Wheel*  r  Wileo 


IN  HIM. 

Though  the  bee 
Miss  the  clover, 
Fly  it  by  and  know  it  not; 
Though  the  sea 
Wash  not  over 
On  the  sands  a  wounded  spot; 
Heart,  O  heart! 
Thou  wilt  part 
From  the  All-hold  on  thee,  and  lose  thy 
way, 

Never,  never; 
Nor  wilt  sever 
Thy  sweet  life  from  the  life  of  night  and 
day. 

Thou  in  him 
Liest  as  dim 
As  yellow  wings  in  golden  atmosphere, 
Or  in  the  sea  each  watery  spiritual  sphere. 

James  Vila  Blake. 


A    PRAYER. 

Our  Father,  thou  strange  unknown  AH  in 

all, 
Thou  Source  and  Light  an  J  Life  of  all 

that 
To  Thee  wo  men  and  women 

up 
Our   hearts,    our   souls,    ourselves. 

would  become 
Mure  B  <>re  bravo,  more  true, 

would  inapti 
Our  Book  with  loftier  purposes  an  1  i 
Our  I 

Like  mountain  birds  who l 

peaks, 
-  i  we  would  soar  above  thi  nu  lite, 

Up,  up  to  Tb 


46  A  PRAYER. 

Nay!  nay! 
Hear  not  that  prayer,  O  loving  Father 

God; 
But,  like  the  living  Gods — Thy  sons — we 

are, 
May  we  have  sight  to  see,  in  sensuous  life, 
Thyself,  ourselves,  the  wondrous,  strange, 

Divine. 
May  our  sealed  eyes  unclose,  and  in  all 

life, 
In  flower  and  tree,  in  bird  and  grazing 

kine, 
Yea !  in  the  very  stones  beneath  our  feet, 
May  we  behold  the  Deep  Inscrutable. 

O  God,  O  Allah,  Father,  Mother-soul, 
More  faith  in  Thee  and  in  Thy  sons  we 

crave ; 
More  trust  and  peace  and  sweet  security 
Of    loving   children,  wrapped  in  loving 

arms. 
Our  souls  forget  Thy  presence;  think  of 

Thee 
As  far  away,  unknown,  almost  unreal. 
We  would  tear  off  this  veil ;  we  would  be 

sure 


i  pra  I  VI 

That  Thou  art  now  and  hero  ami  every- 

Will" 

And  aught  bat  Thee  is  not. 

"Unknown?"     Aye  I  so, 
I,  all  unknown;  yet  that  7%OM  aH  we 

know, 
a  !   God.   within  ourselves,   within  our 

We  teel  Thy  quickening  Life.    And  fr 

way 
And  purer  air  and  clearer,  fuller  light 

1    if  that  Divine,  uplifting  God  within. 

We  would  obtain. 

Tims  meo  and  women  p 
Cloae  held  within  Thyself,  unto  Thy.se! 
And  for  Thyself  do  pr; 

Edwin  G.  Brown* 


I  AM  SO  WEAK. 

Father,  I  am  so  weak! 

Let  me  Thy  presence  feel, 
Take  now  my  tired  hands  in  Thine 

And  bless  me  as  I  kneel. 

Renew  my  failing  strength, 

And  teach  me  how  to  rise, 
And,  bearing  all  my  heavy  load, 

To  seek  thy  bluer  skies. 

Let  me  not  wait  nor  stay, 

Nor  to  the  past  return, 
But  kindle  still  my  fainting  heart 

With  zeal  anew  to  burn, 

Till  I  shall  see  Thy  love 

In  every  cross  I  bear; 
And,  keeping  close  my  hands  in  Thine, 

Shall  trust  Thee  everywhere. 

J.  E.  McCaine. 


PADS'. 

Pain  caine  at  nightfall,  and  she  staved  till 

morn. 
Her  brow  was  heavy  and  her  eyes  were 

wet 
And  resolute.     Her  tender  lips  w  t : 

me   and   had   no   word,   hat   w 
forlorn. 
This  child  of  earth — earth'slove  earli- 

est born. 
ng  her  path  DO  wistful  violet — 
ie  wind  e  out  with  sighing  mo 

and  fret — 
Bet  drooping  form  spoke  man's  embttten 
scorn. 

crossed  the  threshold  at  t  he- 
fall 
right,  and  stayed  until  the  dawn's  red 


50  PAIN. 

Bloomed  in  the  east,  and,  at  the  blithe 

gay  call 
Of  larks  uprising,  swift  she  went  away, 
But  left  behind  her,  odorous  as  the  May, 
A  lasting  peace,  that  from  her  sombre 

clothes 
Fell,  like  a  star,  and  brought  eternal  day. 

Fanny  Driscoll. 


REMISSION." 

There  i  «nM    granted 
men. 

The  plaoi  u.  regain — in 
til 

I  himself  oaD  lift  us  book  again 

Unto  tfae  height  we  left,  until  w<         ab. 

There  Lb  do  swiff  repentance  © 
A  violated  principle.     No  t 

»ur  staii  orjii       •  I 

lie*©,"— 

y,  wo  must  wear  them  out  bj  ear- 
nest yars. 

For  each  descent  from  fair  truth's  lol 

wnv. 

which  del, 
V  il, 


52  REMISSION. 

By  that  soul's  gloom  and  loneliness  we 
pay, 
And  by  the  retarded  journey  to  its  goal. 

We  can  go  back,  we  can  regain  the  height, 
But  not  by  sudden  leaps :  our  souls  are 
strong, 

And  countless  forces  help  us  to  do  right 
When  once  we  weary  of  the  ways  of 


wrong. 


Ella  Wheeler    Wilcox. 


THE   CHILDREN'S  SERVICI 

ok. 

.Is  for  service  are  ringing, 
The  father  and  mother  have  • 
\:ii  three  little  golden-haired  children 

Are  left  in  the  door-v        .lone. 

P(  O young  for  the  meeting — 

I  0B7  and  fro1  — 

So  they  think  to  praise  God  like  their 
.  rs 
W         holy-time  all  by  themselves! 

one  a  big  volume  has! 
And    holds    it    top-down   'gainst  I 
btee 

mi  little 
ut  in  *  an  1  besi  I 


54       THE  CHILDREN'S  SERVICE. 

They  know  not  themselves  what  they're 
singing, 

And  each  takes  a  tune  of  his  own : — 
Sing  on,  O  ye  children,  your  voices 

Are  heard  at  the  heavenly  throne! 

And  there  stand  your  angels  in  glory, 
While  songs  to  the  Father  they  raise, 

Who  out  of  the  mouths  of  the  children 
Hath  perfected  worship  and  praise. 

Sing  on;  over  there  in  the  garden 

There  singeth  an  answering  choir; 
•Tis  the  brood  of  light-hearted  birdlings, 
That  chirp  in  the  bloom-laden  brier. 

Sing  on  :  there  is  trust  in  your  music — 
The  Father,  he  asks  not  for  more; 

Quick  fTieth  the  heart-  that  is  sinless 
Like  a  dove  to  the  heavenly  door. 

Sing  on;  we  sing  who  are  older, 
Yet  little  we,  too,  understand; 

And  our  Bibles,  how  often  we  hold  them 
The  bottom-side  up  in  our  hand ! 

Sing  on;  in  the  songs  of  our  service 
We  follow  each  note  of  the  card ; 


THE  CHILDRE  \ 

it  alas,  in  our  strife  with  i  or 

;  for  (  arth'fl  1 « >  f  r  i  •  si  mn 

BO  tine  an  ir. 

What  is  it?  — 

A  breath  in  the  Infinit. 

F.   I 


PATIENCE. 

All  are  weak  and  all  are  strong; 
Patience  righteth  every  wrong. 
All  good  things  the  will  must  task, 
All  achievement  patience  ask. 
Chiefly  with  each  other's  weakness 
Need  we  patience,  love  and  meekness. 
Who  takes  ill  another's  ill 
Eeareth  two  loads  up  the  hill. 

James  Vila  Blake, 


ONE   WOMAN'S  WORK. 

MWbO  having  littl- 

sphere — how o  d  you  call  it  bo? 

i  pairs  of  be!  r  -  1  m  >k  up  in  mine, 

o  tin  b  alight 

Ti,         j-urcs  all  my  life    with   tenderest 
glow. 

•a  use  I  cannot  paint  with  artist  skill 

jing  C         ;  of  the  -  .-id  si; 

I  oannot  write  of  visions  high 

1  move  you  all  with  pain  or  joy  at  will; 

Because  to  Learning's  shrine  no  gifts  I 
bring, 

:e  a  *  stand  for  woman's 

e; 
Because  I  trust  unquestioning  the 

lioh  bring  us  snow  i-s  winter,  birds  in 
■ring,— 


58  ONE  WOMAN'S  WORK. 

You  think  my  life  is  circumscribed  and 

cold 
In  what  should  make  it  helpful,  rich  and 

strong. 
Ah,  friend — these  happy  days  are  none  too 

long 
For  all  the  loving  duties  that  they  hold. 

Nor  has  the  art  you  love  been  all  denied, 
For  loveliest  pictures  every  day  I  see 
In  childhood's  careless  grace  and  move- 
ments free, 
From  waking  morn  till  dreamy  eventide. 

My    Edith's    braids,    now    brown,    now 

golden  bright, 
Imprison    tints    no    artist's    brush    has 

known ; 
The  baby's  deep  blue  eyes,  which  meet 

my  own, 
In  living  beauty  mock  all  painted  light. 

Nor  do  you  know,  my  friend,  the  critics 

bold 
We  story-tellers  in  our  children  find — 
What  store  of  wisdom  and  of  wit  combined 
We  need  to  point  a  moral  new  or  old. 


ONE  WOMAN'S   WORK* 

And  in  reforms  are  we  not  learning  1, 

-till,  .-mall  voice  need  not  be  all  i  i  v;n 
Thi'—   tiny  hands  ra;iy  hold   great  Future 

gain, 

"They  who  only  stand    and 

wait." 

what  in  science  or  philosophy 
<  -  in  i •  si  a  childish  heart, 

F-  B  upward  way  to  take  its  part 

»r  good  or  ill  in  L 

God  help  ns  mothers  all  to  live  aright, 
1    1- t  our   homes   all  tmth  and  love 

Feeli]  gthat  life  no  loftier  aims  can  hoi  I 
Than  leading  little  children  to  the  light. 

Ma  van. 


IN  TWOS. 

Somewhere  in  the  world  there  hide 
Garden- gates  that  no  one  sees 
Save  they  come  in  happy  twos, — 
Not  in  ones,  nor  yet  in  threes. 

But  from  every  maiden's  door 
Leads  the  pathway  straight  and  true ; 
Maps  and  survey  know  it  not, — 
Ke  who  finds,  finds  room  for  two ! 

Then  they  see  the  garden- gates! 
Never  skies  so  blue  as  theirs, 
Never  flowers  so  many -sweet, 
As  for  those  who  come  in  pairs. 

Bound  and  round  the  alleys  wind : 
Now  a  cradle  bars  the  way, 
Nov/  a  little  mound,  behind,  — 
So  the  tw7o  go  through  the  day. 


ix  t\\<  ft] 

When  no  nook  in  all  tin-  lanes 
But  has]  d  a  song  or  sigh, 
i    i !  aunt h.         rden  gate 

( )]  •  two  go  by. 

wander,  knowing  not! 

M  Kve  and  Twentyl"  fills  the  air 
With  a  sitae  o  1<>w. 

All  about  the  startled  pair. 

Happier  vet  th*  .rden  walks: 

Closer,  heart  to  heart,  they  lean; 
falls  the  light; 
■v  the  tl  nd  far  between. 

Till,  at  last,  as  on  tin 

Down  the  pa  >  well  they  know, 

:i  at  hidden  gi 
Stand  the  two:  they  enter  slow. 

Golden  I         i  of  Fift  , 

May  <  "  r  two  your  Latohet  pre 

«.f  the  Sunset  Land, 
Hold  their  dearest  happiness! 


62  IX  TWOS. 

Then  a  quiet  walk  again; 
Then  a  wicket  in  the  wall : 
Then  one,  stepping  on  alone, — 
Then  two  at  the  Heart  of  All! 

W.  C.  Gannett. 


WOOING   AND  WEDDING. 

At  last  [  Bp  ice.     O  faint  and  BW6I  t 
train  of  i 

Was  the  smile  that  just  touched  mouth 
an 

» 

A  i  along 

r  gla< 
W  lets  throug. 

It*  -  ••  l  »  •    •  • 

■ 

And  will  vol  1m>  mj  v  : 

like  mine  tor  yon, 
•uls  not  even  with  lifi 

.    i  rosv  bin- 
A  softly  vs  »s" — 

And  it  seemed  that  all  th 

C  M 1 1  l  • 

In  tli  .11  troth 

to  f.md  \\\><  press. 

••  kodO  Iotb,  mj  true 


64         WOOING  AND   WEDDING. 

Be  but  true  to  me, 
As  I  to  you,  love, 
Evermore  will  be." 

"  Sweet,    sweet,    sweet!"    the   wild   birds 
trilled, 
A -building  their  tiny  nest, 
And  "  Sweet,  sweet,"  the  brown  bee  hum- 
med 
As  it  swung  on  a  clover  crest, 
And    u  Sweet,"    sighed   low    a    summer 
wind 
As  it  swooned  on  the  rose's  breast. 
And  "  O  love,  my  true  love, 

Strong  are  Time  and  Death, 
But  love  like  mine  for  you,  love, 
They  cannot  change!" — he  saitb. 

WEDDING. 

The  soul,  as  Eastern  Legends  tell, 
Was  once  by  Allah  rent  in  twain, 

Made  male  and  female,  sent  to  dwell 
On  earth :  to  taste  of  bliss  and  pain, 

To  know  both  liberty  and  law, 
To  love,  to  reason,  to  transgress — 


KD  WEDD1N 

irn  all  lessons  that  should  draw 
It  nearer  Divine  IVrfectness. 

To  Borne — for  He  is  gooil — 'tis  given 

To  find  this  kindred  ball  below; 
B  if  other  bo  q  %.  on  this  side  heaven, 

divid  'd  life  may  know. 

In  wedlock  meeting,  every  soul 

gain  doth  rind — 
The  rounded  life,  the  perfect  whole, 

The  imago  of  the  omniscient  -Mind. 

And  hand  in  hand  the  wedded  pail 
'  >  forth  to  till  the  Earth  anew, 

make  the  home-plaoe  bnilded  the 

The  Eden  their  first  parents  knew. 

Helpmates— help-  j  strife 

To  bear  the  burden  laid  on  each. 
-  answer  b  i  Life 

X  us,  bat  i  -h. 

He  learning  of  her  mood-  at  length 

aper  Stall  hifl  harshest  t1  at; 

ngth 
real  fa  oaton       , -lit; 


66         WOOING  AND  WEDDING. 

Bearing,  forbearing,  day  by  day 
Serving  each  other,  strong  to  bless 

And  aid  and  comfort;  so  each  may 
Learn  the  divine  unselfishness. 

The  little  jars,  the  petty  strife, 
In  love  that  casteth  out  reproach 

Are  lost  at  length :  the  higher  life 
Their  spirits  step  by  step  approach. 

The  two  as  one  move  ever — even 
As  those  the  poet-mystic  hailed, 

When  to  his  vision  rapt  the  heaven 
Of  wedded  spirits  was  unveiled. 

"I  saw"  (he  saith)  "  an  angel  strong 
And  bright,  approaching ;  but  anear, 

When  it  alighted  and  erelong 

Boiled  back  the  enfolding  atmosphere, 

';  Behold!  I  saw  beside  me  stand 
Not  one,  but  two,  the  perfect  whole, 

The  wedded  spirit — hand  in  hand 
The  Man-soul  and  the  Woman-soul!" 
Alice  Williams  Brotherton. 


SEPTEMBER  TWEXTY-FIFTII. 

dgeful  woi 
There  may  i  •  i  hate  this  bless 

Jay 

Be  terror  and  di 

m 

Or  from  i*l  th 

hmled; 

Or  some,  with  joy's  bright  bai  ly 

faded, 
May  keep  th 
To  grievous  I         that  barn  bo- 

hen  from  i  v's  source  they   fl 

re  whirl 

Oh.  yon  who  hate  th  I  speak  it 

'ill- 
Be  sure  it  1         ;ht    a  ood   all 

priot 


68     SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

And   you   who    weep,    rmcomforted,     be 

still  — 
An  angel  came  this  day  from  paradise; 
Upon  this  day  my  dearest  love  was  born — 
The  rarest  jewel  day  hath  ever  worn. 

Wm.  S.  Lord. 


ma  REVERE 

U  in  t  '  of  t: 

W<  .        it  in  by  the  wind  and  tl 

'  elm--         igaiD  ne 

And  f  ls  two  the  closer  tc  geth 

■  the  loops  of  hair 
aiutilv  ^ 

Or  in  a  fleet  c 

folded. 

;  h  thi  well, 

fortune  a: 
hover, 
Ami  th  i  her  dreamy 

I 
in 


70  HIS  REVERIE. 

So  dear,  that,  only  there  is  no  need, 
My   heart   would   forever   one   word   be 
repeating. 

Yet  her  soul  knows  a   pathway  that   I 

cannot  tread 
To  the  mountains  of  thought  lying  high 

and  lonelv, 
And  yearn  as  I  may  she  slips  away 
To  a  realm  that  is  closed  unto  me — me 

only. 

Though  we  sit  in  the  light  of  the  self- same 

fire, 
While  the  storm  folds  us  close  and  the 

wild  wind  is  calling, 
The  light  of  the  summit  is  on  her  brow 
And  T  stand  alone  where  the  shadows  are 

falling. 

If  I  speak — I  know  her  ways  so  well — 
She  will  turn  with  a  smile  that  has  caught 

its  sweetness 
From  the  starry  heights  where  her  soul 

has  fed, 
And  will  lean  to  me  in  my  incompleteness, 


HIS  REVERIE.  71 

With  h  love  that  would di  j>t<>! 

Le; 
Or,  faili 

Would  yield  all  pari  in  a  wealth  nnshan  1. 
id  joy  in  t' 

the  hand  I  1 

':it,    f. 

i 

T  bul  hand  in  my  own  and  wait 

Whi] 

upws 
For  I  know  that  her  heart  will 

to   !:.     . 

1  to  tl 
Lining. 

Lily  A.  J 


THE  WAYS  OF  LOYE. 

From  out  a  wintry  sky  did  sudden  gleam 
Of  sunshine  reach  a  violet  where  it  grew, 
That  grateful  sprang  to  meet  the  tender 

beam; 
Unfolding  all  her  leaves  of  delicate  hue, 
And   shedding   perfume    in    a    fragrant 

stream ; 
But  ere  her  beauty  opened  to  the  view, 
Descending  clouds  dispelled  such  blissful 

dream ; 
Nor  ever  more  than  that  caress  she  knew. 

And  thus  doth  love  awake  the  slumbering 

heart 
To  quick  response ;  it  opens  like  a  flower 
Whilst  thousand  aspirations  yet  unknown 
Burst  into  life  in  one  all  tremulous  hour. 
They   shall   not   die!    but   higher    aims 

inspire, 

And  flow  in  noble  deeds,  though  love  hath 

flown. 

Samuel  Baxter  Foster. 


TO    KATIIEKINK. 

tar,  trustful  f  . 

I  ha\.  thee  in   1 

Audi  dow  I  of  the i 

■  gentle  talisman  tl  -p. 

(Ugh  1  of  li.     i '    ■■       .n- 

d» 

clothed   in    peace  and  patience 

i    ]->.    the    darksome    forest     ua     thy 

friei 

1    :  ■ 

i 

tiny  spiral  holds 
iUiv  oi    t 

i  mtrol  Qg 

B] 

ads  rooi  iy  in 

.1.  Long. 


SUESUM  COEDA. 

Hast  ever  seen  a  lover  die, 

And  witnessed  then  the  sky 

Beam  upon  his  closing  eye 

Its  utmost  immortality  ? 

I  have — in  dreams — and  thus  he  died: 

He  took  her  hand  and  said, 

"Heart's-dear,  heart's-joy,  heart's-pride, 

Soon  I  shall  be  what  men  call  dead; 

And  thou,  sweet  bosom-friend,  wilt  stand 

beside, 
And  see  me  grow  all  white, 
And  a  strange,  wondrous  light 
Issue  and  hover;  yea,  and  me, 
Whom  thou  didst  never  grand  or  glorious 

see, 
Thou  wilt  behold  filled  with  the  majesty 
Which  death  works  in  the  face. 
Come  close  down,  close,  into  thy  place, 
Darling,  upon  my  breast, 


DA. 

While  1  do  i  to  i  ■  true,  my 

I     "  • 
!  '  r: 

r  in  God1  be  ft  i  ohao  ,'e 

. 
I 

io  with  featur 

1)6 

— 

L  and  t  and  good, 

Even  if  I  ;ore, 

k  on  tin 
their  full  voice  befoi 
ink  how  blitl 

think  it  faith, 

tli 
:h, 

rd     th 


76  SURSUM  CORDA. 

Be  continuance,  like  a  birth, 

Or  a  forgetting  in  an  endless  sleep. 

But  I  count  it  deeper  faieh 

Strongly  to  hold  and  wish  to  keep 

The  rich  life  God  doth  give. 

Is  it  life  that  loves  not  living  ? 

So  far  as  life's  glories  thrill 

In  my  reason,  in  my  will, 

So  far  as  my  soul  is  health 

To  feel  the  greatness  and  the  wealth 

Of  life's  rapture,  having,  giving; — 

So  far  doth  a  holy  fire 

Flame  up  in  me  with  desire, 

And  seize  on  everlastingness. 

I  cannot  reckon  any  less 

God's  living  gift  of  blessedness. 

And  this  more  I  say :  if  me 

All  life's  other  wealth  could  give 

No  high  desire,  still  I  would  wish  to  live 

For  the  greatness  of  loving  thee. 

Bend  close,  dear,  close,  and  on  the  tide 

Thou  wilt,  a  little  way,  go  by  my  side." 

Thus — in  my  dream — a  lover  died. 

James  Vila  Blake. 


VI  NET  A. 

From  f  WUh 

From  the  still  my  pthfl  of  ooean 

V«  -per  bells  are  ringing  B  and  1 

Bringing  to  us  tidings  from  the 
Sunk  beneath  the  w  long  ago. 

laint  and  lovely  hoi  the  city  hidden 
alerneath  the  waves  which  guard  its 
ills  — 
Only  sometimes  comes  a  |  himi: 

.rht  from        Le  hall  . 

lxmtnian,  wl 
Once  has  caught  that  gl.  j;io 

light, 

Rows  hi  round  the 

•_'U  tii"  cliffs abov       imdaikafl 

night. 


78  VINETA. 

From  my  heart's  mysterious  undercurrent 
Comes  a  silver  chiming  sweet  and  low, 

And  it  seems  to  bring  me  tender  greetings 
From  the  love  who  loved  me  long  ago. 

An  enchanted  world  lies  hid  forever 
Underneath  my  life's  dull  ebb  and  flow, 

Only   sometimes   comes   like  light  from 
heaven 
To  my  dreams  this  faint  reflected  g«ow\ 

And  I  long  to  sink  beneath  the  wraters — 
Lose  myself  in  that  reflection  bright, 

For  it  seems  as  if  the  angels  called  me 
Back  into  that  world  of  love  and  light. 

Emma  E.  Marean. 


LOVE. 

A  word  went  forth  upon  the  summer  wind 

falling  on  the  d  lit, 

As  })  Ly  snowdrop',  and  aa  fair — 

A  I  l  to  our  human  kind. 

Bounding  through  the  agrs  wo  shall 
find 
Tl  bring 

•  charm  for  sorrow  or  dull 
Tl  ilver-li 

Tl  •      he  tho  zephyr  that  1 

1>  :t 

ngs    from    tho    far-off    i 
realm — 
A  messa;_r.'  linking  earth  to  ilea  veil  above. 

;ht — 
This  I  disman  upon  it  n: 

I . 


O  ad  low  the  morning  wind        !  — 


mm  J 


ASTEK  AM)  G0LDE1SIE0D. 

Aster  looks  with  purple  eyes 

Upward,  shy  and  sweet; 
Goldenrod,  with  kingly  mien, 

Calm  and  gracious  and  serene, 
Smiles  upon  her  as  she  leans 

To  his  royal  feet. 

Smoke  has  wreathed  the  autumn  hills, 

Hazy,  dreaming,  dim; 
Amber  glory  fills  the  hollows, 

To  the  southward  fly  the  swallows, 
Lazy  butterfly,  slow,  follows 

O'er  the  slumb'rous  rim. 

Aster,  with  her  loving  eyes, 

Cares  not  for  the  dying 
Of  the  languid  Indian  days — 

Of  the  grand  triumphal  blaze 
In  the  mystic  woodland  ways 

Where  the  bees  are  flying. 


A^  AND  <  h.        81 

King  doth  love  hei  v.vll. 
Tenderly  and  deep; 
Gives  her  golden  crown  and  throne, 

Sceptre,  kingdom,  for  her  own — 

Then  with  kisses,  they,  alone, 
Fall  on  happy  sleep. 

Fanny  Di  isvull. 


THE   CATHEDKAL. 

Shelf  over  shelf  the  nioiintairi  rose; 
And,  as  we  climbed,  they  seemed  the  stair 
That  scales  a  minster's  wall  to  seek 
Some  high-hid  cell  of  prayer. 

And  every  stair  was  carpeted 
With  mosses  soft  of  grey  and  green, 
Where  gold  and  crimson  arabesques 
Trailed  in  and  out  between. 

Up,  up,  o'er  ferny  pavements  still 
And  dim  mosaics  of  the  wood, 
The  rocky  terraces  we  trod, 
Till  on  the  heights  we  stood. 

About  the  ancient  mountain-walls 
The  silent  wildernesses  clung ; 
In  solemn  frescoes,  moving  slow, 
The  clouds  their  shadows  flung. 


//•;  cat m: dual.  69 

Along  the  valley  bur  below, 
The  Bhimmer  o!  b  forest-floor, — 
A  leafy  brightness,  like  the  e 

Wide  twinkling  o'er  and  o'er. 

1  id  the        hty  minster,  we, 
Beneath  the  dome  of  radiant  bine: 

al-hr 

And  worship  breathing  through] 

Tli  ild  music  on  the  winds, 

t  ohoir 
hills 
As  over  a  ohorded  h 

:•  quiet  prayer; 
Aid  lulls  in  which  the  I  ers  heard 

ud  faces  em 
than  any  bird. 

Of  th  Eternal,  by  whose  will 

•  hills  their  steadfast  pi.  p, 

Whose  Right  is  lit  totmtain        gh, 

Whose  Judgments  are  a  deep, — 


84  THE  CATHEDRAL. 

In  grand  old  Bible  verse  we  spoke : 
And  following  close,  like  echoes,  sped 
The  poems  best  beloved.     The  words 
Along  the  silence  fled. 

The  Silence,  awful  living  "Word, 
Behind  all  sound,  behind  all  thought, 
Yv7hose  speech  is  Nature-  yet-to-be, 
The  Poem  jet  unwrought ! 

To  us  it  spake  within  the  soul, 
Through  sense  all   strangely  blent  with 

sense ; 
The  vision  took  majestic  rhythm — 
We  heard  the  firmaments! 

And  listened,  time  and  space  forgot, 
As  flowed  the  lesson  for  the  day, — 
"Order  is  Beauty;  Law  is  Love; 
Childlike  his  worlds  obey." 

And  ail  the  heaven  seemed  bending  down 
Above  the  shining  earth's  sweet  face, 
Till  in  our  hearts  they  touched :  we  felt 
The  thrill  of  their  embrace. 


THE  CATHEDRAL. 

Then,  iu  it-  i        .  we  \  n 

Our  rocky  stair-case  from  tl  -lit : 

On  Jim  I  of  t:i"  v  ,<xi 

We  met  the  climl >i i ig  N  ight 

W.  ft. 

B 

-     1-1    .    h. 


ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Not  always  on  the  mount  may  we 
Eapt  in  the  heavenly  vision  be ; 
The  shores  of  thought  and  feeling  know 
The  Spirit's  tidal  ebb  and  flow. 

Lord,  it  is  good  abiding  here — 
We  cry,  the  heavenly  presence  near : 
The  vision  vanishes,  our  eyes 
Are  lifted  into  vacant  skies! 

Yet  hath  one  such  exalted  hour 

A 

Upon  the  soul  redeeming  power, 

And  in  its  strength  through  weary  days 

We  travel  our  appointed  ways. 

The  mount  for  vision, — but  below 
The  paths  of  daily  duty  go, 
Wherein  a  nobler  life  shall  own 
The  pattern  on  the  mountain  shown. 

F.  L.  Hosmer. 


'  OODS. 

•  iratera  flow 

TI.        j- li  life's  river.  and  skr 

>ubt  and  gloomy  dread 
Li  cfc  d  in  its  1> 

Li  ■  ' 

Writ,  in  ftir, 

ilure,  everywhere. 

Awj  .  it  1 1  ear- 

I  i  I  I  fly! 

ch  t:     npp     air; 

1  wit  :— - 

I  an  with  all  ful  Ihin 

In  t!  ■  ■ 
O  ith  ti. 
With  the  ocean's  ebb  and  flow 

Mj  1    BID   I  I 

Oi 


88  MOODS. 

Flowing  through  the  heart  of  time, 

Filling  the  whole; 
Shaping  the  rolling  spheres, 
Molding  through  countless  years 

Each  human  soul; 
Nothing  can  do  me  harm 
While  the  eternal  arm 

Holds  me  secure; 
All  else  may  pass  away, 
Fade  with  the  fading  day, 

Love  shall  endure. 

J.  E.  McCaine. 


BEVEBEB. 

lulling  plash  upon  my  senses  fall 

.  and  twilight  d<  but; 

i 
Us 

ke  tl.;  BUT. 

My  1  •  nst  the  dusk  green 

. 

i  with  every  wind  that  touches 
it: 

two  sea-gulls  dip 

And  then  into  the  dim  blue  -  flit. 

A    •  I  B   Lrl- 

d.  and  golden         — 
1  Bummer   with 

di        — 

TL  ■    1    crown  with  *  :ig 

Fan  uy  h> 


A  WINDOW  PICTURE. 

Set  in  my  window's  oaken  frame 

Is  a  picture  learned  when  my   years 
were  few, 
Dear  it  has  grown,  as  my  eyes  have  gazed 

On  it,  and  on  it,  the  long  years  through. 
A  glimpse  of  sea  with  a  rocky  shore, 

And  a  light-house,  looming  high  and 
grand, 
In  dim  perspective  hills  of  blue, 

And  autumn  woods  upon  either  hand. 

Over  it  all  a  cloud-flecked  sky, 

Where  light  and  shadow  alternate  reign, 
And  a  tangled  garden  close  at  hand, 

"[Intended,  save  bv  the  sun  and  rain. 
I  have  seen  the  picture  these  many  years, — 

It  is  ever  and  never  the  very  same, 
On  no  two  days  lies  the  light  alike, 

It  shifts  and  changes,  like  thought  or 
flame. 


.1   WINDOM    I  /•'  ri  RE.  \n 

Hut  to  day  within  ii  fnn 

Lies  a  Claude  Lorraine  of         -t  in. 

M.  Howe  time's  OOOl  touch. 

The  gl"\\  fchey  interfile 

For  a  h.  ze  I                  blue, 

And  a  film  i  t  the  waters  spread, 

purple  glooms   of    the    di 

r  with  a  thought  of  the  summer 

spi  1 . 

Over  ll.         up  of  t:         romn  wood 

i's  U:  c  and  phi 

£  gloi  f  tree  a: 

■ 

id  the  ]!  softened,  subdued,  d 

seems 

rs 
In  their  Apoealypti.  s. 

Autumn  glories  ol  h  and  air! 

encu  d  hill 

kons, 
1; 
Soul  of  the  solitud<  !     Being  that  fills 


92  A  WINDOW  PICTURE. 

All  of   the  earth  with  thy  presence  and 
power, 

To  my  spirit  at  last  is  given  the  clew, 
Thou  art  the  glory  we  never  could  name, 

Thou  art  the  Beauty  we  worshipped  nor 

knew. 

Hattie  Tung  Griswold. 


FADOW 

Over  tlio  me:  bending  grass 

Hurry  the  Bum  t ; 

th<  y  sa  le  the  g  U, 

:  t<>  the  sunflowr  t  and 

"tall, 

id  cradle  the  clovers  at  tin  : 

v  with  i 

■  "  ;  i  of  E 

ning  In 

anbeama  among  l 

lowly  retn  i  i_r  1 : t 

I 

Ti  i !_r  1 1  t  a  of  the  form- 

id  dance  in  a  weary  womi 


94  SHADOWS. 

But,  like  the  man  the  Pilgrim  found, 
She  evermore  bends  to  rake  the  ground, 
Blind  to  the  glories  of  sunset  skies. 

They  fly  to  the  field  where  the  farmer 
binds 

The  heavy  grain  through  the  sum- 
mer day. 
By  the  creed  of  toil  he  shapes  his  life; 
What  cares  he  for  the  merry  strife" 

Of  idle  shadows  that  dare  to  play  ? 

They  climb  the  hill  to  the  churchyard 
lone 

Where  ever  and  ever  the  soft  winds 
pass, 
Where   the  skies  bend  low  on  summer 

eves, 
And  the  still  dews  fall,  and  the  shadows 
of  leaves 

Weave  their  mystical  runes  on  the 
grass. 

And  the  simple  beauty  the  living  scorned 
Enfolds  the  dead,  whose  day  is 
done, 


SHADOW 

king  wit]  ice 

Tl  blind        of  soul  and  Bense 

Th  gainst 

tl.        •). 

Oh,  th-  g  through  th:         >ro 

irs 

Aj  the  end  with 

hand 
01..  and  th 

#  • 
The  anna  th;  ad  the  winds  that 

Wj  In  on 

il. 
I  to  ; 
A:    1  •  •  sonli  . 

L  y. 

It  In:  >rld  I 

Lily  .  i.  /."  <j. 


POEM  AND  DOGMA. 

'Twas  Schliemann  back  from  Troy, 
With  relics  bronze  and  gold : 

Where  other  eyes  saw  violets, 
His  saw  the  city  old. 

And,  fondling  a  brown  skull, — 
"  My  learned  friend,"  said  he, 

"  Tells  me  that  this  a  maiden's  was, 
In  Troy  beyond  the  sea; 

"  And  from  these  angles  here 
Of  brow  and  cheek-bone  fine, 

He  judges  that  my  maiden  was 
A  creature  quite  divine." 

"Ah,  yes!"  he  added  low, 

"  Virchow  was  right  just  there, 

For  all  the  maidens  of  old  Troy 
Were  beautiful  and  rare!" 


POEM  AND  DOGMA.  97 

By  Bummer  oha  «>  mot. 

And  bb!  in  chatting  mood: 
One  said,  "  I  Tow  noblo  Jeans'  word 

In  that  Beatitude!" 

••  Ah,  yes!"  chimed  in  B  friend, 
M  You  Bpeak  it  truly  there, 
'■  ell  that  Jesus  said  or  v., 
Was  right  ml  compare." 

■•  And  Paul,"  said  one,  uW8fl  wrong; 

How  far  from  light  he  trod!'1 — 
"But  then  you  know,"  my  lady  chirp 

••Tis  all  the  Word  of  God!" 


The  artlessness  the  sam 

But  why  should  tears  half-M 

Over  the  fabled  beauty  gone, — 
Poem  of  German  heart; 

While,  with  half-angry  thought, 

I  smile  away  the  I 

Of  Cabled  beauty  they  would  fain 
Persuade  me  that  I  need  '.' 


98  POEM  AND  DOGMA. 

Angry !  who  know  their  creeds 

Were  j^oems  too, — that  died; 

That  all  the  world's  old  dogmas  are 

Its  poems  petrified! 

W.  C.  Gannett. 

1881. 


A   DAT    IX   BFBIN< 

What  a  charm 
Dot's  this  calm  ami  holy  suushii 
Give  the  far' 

In  the  yard 
There  are  pai  I  Bfl  with  the  l: 
Lightly  starred 

Dandelion 
Greet  again  I  d  and  aged 

■ions. 

In  a  group  the  violets 
R  ir. 

rom  th»'  bough 

the  fallin  .1 

Like  a  | 

ings 
Heme  6o  small,  it  seems  a  yieldin 
Twig  that  si : 


100  A  DAY  IN  SPRING. 

Hark!  the  breeze 
Of  the  life  immortal  whispers 
To  the  trees. 

In  the  field 
Gains  that  man  an  honest  title 
To  its  yield. 

As  a  pearl, 
Priceless  is  his  sweet,  pure  hearted 
Little  girl. 

Full  of  joy, 
Like  the  oak  tree  in  an  acorn 
Is  his  boy. 

Who  can  know 
With  what  joy  the  mother  passes 
To  and  fro! 

Day  descends 
And  the  earthly  into  heavenly 
Melts  and  blends. 

How  content 

Lies  the  farm  'neath  God's  o'er-spreadiug 

Firmament. 

Minnie  S.  Savage. 


TREES. 

Ipful  to  my  life  an  t  tn     I 

inty    charms    me,   whU 
strengt : 
If  j  wi  with  . 

m-day  with  ( I 
1 1  > \v  like  a  strong  man  stands  the  st 

oak, 
Mightier  than  all  fa       Uowb;  yetheseeme 

b   inl 
from  fi(  roe  battling  with  th- 
not  i 
Bat  on  his  ing  t: 

id    h  i     fee' 

st-         'h. 
Wb  "id  in  gold 

ring? 
A  i 

it  1 1 


102  TREES. 

A  type  of  what  this  human  life  should  be 
When  the  end  cometh. 

Faces  I  have  seen 
Which  speak  to  me,  e'en  as  these  autumn 

leaves, 
Of  a  rich  harvest  safely  garnered  in. 
Would  autumn  leaves  be  just  as  richly 

dyed, 
Did   only   sunshine   and   warm   summer 

showers 
Fall  on  them,  and  the  dreary  days  come 

not? 
But  e'en  as  glory  of  the  king  may  fade, 
Or  he  be  robbed  of  all  his  rich  attire, 
So  fade  and  pass  away  their  glories  all, 
While  ever  and  anon  the  drear  winds  sigh 
A  requiem  of  sadness.     Yet  above 
The  dead  leaves  rustling  do  the  days  go  on, 
And    spring-time    gladness  will    return 

again. 
O,  in  their  hours  of  calm  do  trees  not  dream 
Of  the  bright  days  to  come  of  bud  and 

bloom  ? 

Thus  do  they  speak  to  me,  and  seem  to 
teach 


77  l1 

The  wondrous  i  jr  of  life  and  death. 

The   first    spring  Jaink'li-                      is 
mi 

ian  all  t  itten  word;  ii 

Di:  to  the  soul,  and  B6  be 

The  v         of  God.      It  is  a  thing  of  li :   . 
A    1  what  oan  bettor  solve  the  m\ 
It  is  a  pro  f  <>f  fulfills 

unfa,  v,  when 

in  the  dead  leaves  rustle  "neath  our 

feet. 
And  the  cold  sriov.-  sin  11  cover  all  we  1«>- 

O  so  many  ]  d  unto  thee 

strange  if  any  soul  should 
the  way. 

Ella  F.  Stev 


WHY  ASK  I  MOKE? 

On  topmost  twig  of  a  leafy  tree 
Sat  a  plain  brown  thrush,  and  cheerily 
He  chirped  away,  as  if  all  that  be 
"Were  happy,  content  and  free. 

He  had  dined  that  day  on  living  things : 
On  worm,  and  insect  with  buzzing  wings 
Unlike  his  own,  but  the  life  of  these 
Went  out  in  the  song's  degrees. 

Why  sings  the  thrush  in  the  world  below 

Thus  happy  and  free,  I  may  never  know. — 

True    he    feeds    on    worms;    on    living 

things ; — 

But  this  I  may  know,  he  sings! 

I  may  not  know  how  the  bird  to  be 

Glorifies  all  by  its  melody ; — 

Like  offerings  then,  I  may  not  bring — 

Yet  I  knew  that  bird  will  sing ! 

J.  N.  Sprig g. 
Quincy,  Nov.  18,  1333. 


SUNSET  AFTER  STORM. 

\  little  later,  the  whole  etmoephere  i    full  of 
l  the        Be  of  ]  in 

John    .  HUM,    in    M  J'<  nrill,   I    1 

The  air  is  full  of  a  golden  mi 

And  the  gates  of  Eden  open  swing, 
Where   slanting   sunbeams   there   in   t 
West 

ike  a  Jacob's  ladder  to  which 
elii 
The  soul  of  mortal  that  dan  s  to  din 
To  Eternity  from  Time. 

**  Whether  out  of  the        it  or  in, 

I  "  but  in  an  b  I .»•  this 

Barely  it  v.       9t  John  the  Divine 
Beheld  that  wond<  rful  ■         iof  1 

Of  a  which  1  Lof  \  n 

:<•<•    t  ;:nd    light   ■ 


106         SUNSET  AFTER  STORM. 

Sard  and  sapphire  and  chalcedon, — 
See  them  piling  up  there  in  the  West, 

The  broad  foundations,  stone  upon  stone — 
Topaz  and  beryl  and  amethyst; 

Up  this  golden  stair  did  we  dare  to  go, 
We  should  reach  the  city,  I  know. 

Soul  of  mine,  why  hunger  and  wait  ? 

There — is  no  sorrow  of  death,  no  night. 
The  light  is  fading.     Too  late!  too  late! 

The  radiant  vision  is  veiled  from  sight. 
But — we  shall  climb  that  stair  at  last 
When  the  storm  of  life  is  past. 
Alice  Williams  Brotherton, 


i-      :.   v  -   .  -  -  ■    - 


■  -  ~- 1'? 


II! 


108      SAILING  BY  MOONLIGHT. 

Ay,  heaven  indeed!     'Tis  not  too  soon 
While  here  on  earth,  to  feel  the  thrill- 
Pulses  harmonious, — of  God's  will 
Throughout  the  universe.     O  moon, 

Our  souls  receive  your  light! 
Harriet  S.  Tolman. 


BEACON-LIGHTS. 

The  brilliant  tn-lights  that  bound  t 

6hore 
Guide  safe  the  storm -tossed  mariner  to 

port: 
What    matter,  green  or  gold,  or  tall  or 

shon 
What  matter,  shown  from  rock,  or  bhi 

or  tower? 
He<j  not  their  color,  sizt  er, 

But  heeds  their  warning  with  his  every 

thought : 
He    heeds    their  warning,  hip 

is  brought 
To  hom  or  in  a  happy  hour. 

Al  of  life's  turbul. 

B  ■ 
Aye  gleam  ondimmed  the  guiding  lights 

of  Love! 


110  BEACON-LIGHTS. 

What  matter,  Jew,   Greek,   Christian,  if 

the  Light 

Be  followed  faithfully  ? — It  then  shall  be 

A  Guiding  Light  indeed,  to  Ports  above : 

A   pillar  of   cloud  by  day,    of   fire    by 

night, 

James  H.  West. 


LILIES. 
Like  pure  white  virgins  clad  in  n  befl  of 

W, 

Holding  up  y<  i       lining  gold — 

inding   up,  stately,  in   t Lie   sunlight's 

glow, 
With   pale,  sweet   brows  untouched  l>v 

time  or  woe, — 
Ye  an  os  thai  nev<        i  grow  old. 

Like  martyn       erints  of  the  sad  faded 
oat,  whitely,  on  stained  a 

Of  some  worn  chane*  banding  tall  8 

still. 

With  maiden         la  on]         i  of  ] 

thrill, 

Hallowed  and  pure    ye  are  the 
strain. 


EPIGiEA. 

With  baby  breath  and  baby  flush, 

The  firstling  of  the  year, 
Baptized  in  glory  from  the  skies, 

Is  born  our  Epigaea. 

Pink  as  the  hues  of  morning  are, 

Pure  as  the  early  dew, 
Fresh  as  the  faith  in  earthly  love 

That  happy  childhood  knew, — 

Our  blushing  flower,  our  woodland  pet, 
Pressed  close  to  earth's  fond  breast, 

Then  passed  from  loving  hand  to  hand 
Like  babies  newly  dressed. 

Oh,  darlings  hiding  in  the  woods, 
We've  learned  your  shy,  soft  ways, 

And  tracked  your  sweet  trail  in  the  leaves, 
Faithful  through  all  the  Mays. 


El         -i.  118 

Sweet  little  kinsfolk,  to  our  liv. 

Your  tenderer  life  tppeel 

Stirs  the  deep  current  of  our  thought^, 
d  hidden  grace  reveals. 

That  Power  which,  through  I   e  winti 

ston. 
Keeps  such  surprise  in  st< 

t  life's  thick  fallen  leaves  may  hiJ 
ones  undreamed  before. 

Mrs.  E.  C.  Putu. 


SUMMER.  CHEMISTRY. 

What  does  it  take 
A  day  to  make, — 
A  day  at  the  Bear'  Camp  Ossipee? 

White  clouds  a-sail  in  the  shining  blue, 
With  shadows  dropt  to  dredge  the  lands-, 
A  mountain-wind,  and  a  marching  storm, 
And  a  sound  in  the  trees  like  waves  on 

sands ; 
A  mist  to  soften  the  shaggy  side 
Of  the  great  green  hill,  till  it  lies  as  dim 
As  the  hills  in  a  childhood  memory ; 
The  back  of  an  upland  pasture  steep, 
With  delicate  fern-beds  notching  wide 
The  dark  wood-line,   where  the  birches 

keep 
Candlemas  all  the  summer-tide; 
The  crags  and  the  ledges  silver-chased 
WTiere  yesterday's  rainy  runlets  raced; 


EEMI8TRY.         115 

Brown-flashing  across  the  mead  :ht 

L6  stream  thai  laohii 

And,  watching  his  valley ,  Choooraa  grii 
And  a  golden  sunset  watohing  Li' 

Add  fifty  lives  of  young  a  1. 

Of  tired  and  sad,  of  strong  and  bold. 

And  em  ry  heart  a  i 

Than  its  own  own 

Add  eyes  whose  glances  have  the  law 

Of  c<  :ig  planets  in  their  draw  ; 

id  careless  hands  that  touch  and  pari, — 
And   hands   that  greet  with  a  heave] 

sense; 
Add  little  children  in  their  gl 
running  to  a  mother's  kn< 
Their  altar;  add  her  heart, 

Their  feeble,  brooding  Providence: — 

Add  this  to  thai         1  thou  shah 

hat  goes  to  summer-chem'  — 

W        \ieGod  takes 
time  he  makes 
■  summer-day  at  Osfl 

ii'.  a  Gannett, 

BkabCamt  Btocb  .'  E, 

Atiot 


COMPENSATION. 

The  wind  blows  up  from  the  sea, 
And  touches  the  waiting  leaves, 

And  bathes  the  toiler's  brow 

As  he  binds  his  ripened  sheaves. 

The  pulse  of  the  wind  is  cool, 
The  breath  of  the  wind  is  sweet ; 

So  sweet  to  the  toiler's  heart 
That  it  compensates  for  the  heat. 

The  limbs  of  work  drag  slow 

Through  the  long  day's  tiresome  sweep ; 
But  he  finds,  what  the  idler  seeks, 

The  balm  of  the  blessed  sleep. 

The  maiden  loves  in  her  youth, 
But  false  is  her  trusted  friend; 

She  weeps  sad  tears,  and  dreams 
That  she  shall  weep  to  the  end. 


WPENSATION.  TIT 

Bu1  of  hi  i-n 

A  mind  more  m 

4  world  has  ever 
When  all  of  the  days  i  ir« 

.]\  vain, 
•  ill  will  i  at  liis  call, 

But  I  tram]  >oor, 

>f  all. 

And  after  many  a 
Wlii'U  liis  life  is  chan 
ic  other  soul  he  shall  win, 

o  God  as  his  fruit 

T!  d  lab  ives 

1  ;pless  people's  cau^-  . 

wrong, 
And  defeat  b 

But  out  of  its  loss  and  ]>ain 
.\  'i. 

the  might  of  a  people  is  more 
.an  the  tatesman'a 

1j. 


118  COMPENSA  TION. 

And  though  his  thought  may  rise 
To  the  heights  no  soul  hath  trod, 

Though  lonely  evermore, 
He  is  lonely  like  a  God. 

And  the  martyr  of  to-day 

Is  the  saint  of  the  future  years, 

And  his  greatest  good  shall  spring 
From  out  the  crypt  of  his  tears. 

The  poet  weeps  through  the  night, 
And  deems  that  the  night  is  long, 

But  in  the  morn  his  tears  have  all 
Been  crystallized  into  song. 

And  the  song  goes  forth  in  the  land, 
And  tells  it  of  truth  and  trust, 

And  all  that  is  best  of  life, 
Long  after  the  poet  is  dust. 

Hattie  Tyng  Griswold, 


a  •       cain  harebell. 

■ 
ii  by  it 

Won  in  a  1 

i  still 

it  in  the  lines  of  its  f; 

t  from  i\  n 
Just  wb  -bolt ;  — 

c  fleet  v. 

Think  1 

bank 


120       A  CERTAIN  HAREBELL. 

Maidenhair,  fem-fronds  and  mosses  low  ? 
Could  it  have  tired  of  the  river's  flow, 
Placidly  slipping  and  sliding  by, 
And,  cloud  or  star-strewn,  the  far-off  sky, 
And  nothing  living  ?     Say  who  will ; 
It  clung  to  the  rock  and  blossomed  still. 

And  what  did  the  grim  old  granite  think 
When  out  there  grew,  from  its  splintered 

chink, 
That  delicate  spirit  of  dew  and  light  ? 
Did  it  ..earn  that,  e'en  after  its  hard- won 

fight, 
Something   was   wanting   to    crown    the 

whole, 
And  there,  in  the  harebell,  find  its  soul? 

Lily  A.  Long. 


MV  80NQ  AND  MY  SOUL. 

Mj  ud  my  soul  are  one,  I 

To-morrow,  my  song  is  flown : 

Or  out  of  i 

My  |  ig  soul  has  £■; 

Tht'ii  where. — in  the  air,  or  on  t  :th, 

all  I  find  my  bird  or  flow, 
i  what  i  rd,  or  what  its  worth 

Beyond  ttu         sing  hou 

'Tis  not  for  it  airy  Conn 

I  tenderly  love  mj 

live  is  lK>rne  far  o'er  the  Bton 
Whose  flood  bt  id  Btr 

I  wait  for  the  I  my  lia: 

And  quiet  my  r 

I  li.-t  f<>r  a  B  Jit  whoso 

ipse  (1  !  dnr         irt 

M 

- 


REFRACTED  LIGHTS. 

The  evening  star  that  softly  sheds 

Its  tender  light  on  me, 
Hath  other  place  in  the  heavenly  blue 

Than  that  I  seem  to  see. 

Too  faint  and  slender  is  that  beam 

To  keep  its  pathway  true, 
In  the  vast  space  of  cloud  and  mist 

It  seeks  an  exit  through. 

Nor  light  of  star,  nor  truth  of  God, 
Through  earth-born  clouds  and  doubt, 

Can  straightway  pierce  the  hearts  of  men 
And  drive  the  darkness  out. 

On  bent,  misshapen  lines  of  faith 

We  backward  strive  to  trace 
The  love  and  glory  that  we  ne'er 

Could  look  on  face  to  face. 


EEFBAi  TED  LIQH1 
Bach  fails,  through  dim  and  wand 

Thfi  VUBOO  whole  to  see, 

liut  none  are  there  so  poor  and  blind 

But  catch  some  g<  •:'  Thee, — 

Some  knowk  way, 

And  of  that  life  ili\i: 

Of  which  our  yearning  b  |        both 
The  proph 

P,  WooW 


"  NOT  ALL  THERE." 

"  The  innocents,  of  whom,  the  Scotch  say,  '  They  are 
not  all  there.'' " 

Something  short  in  the  making, 
Something  lost  on  the  way, 

As  the  little  Soul  was  taking 
Its  path  to  the  break  of  Day ! 

Only  his  mood  or  passion, 
But  it  twitched  an  atom  back ; 

And  she,  for  her  gods  of  fashion, 
Filched  from  the  pilgrim's  pack. 

The  Father  did  not  mean  it, 
The  Mother  did  not  know, 

No  human  eye  had  seen  it, — 
But  the  little  Soul  needed  it  so! 


NOT  all  rui 

trough  the  street  there  passed  a  cripple, 
Maimed  from  before  its  birth  ; 
On  the  strange  face  gleamed  a  ripple 

Like  a  hali-dawn  on  the  earth. 

It  passed, — and  it  awed  the  city, 
e  not  live  nor  dead  ; 
looked,  and  brimmed  with  pity, — 
M  tie  is  n<>t  all  there,91  I  l. 

Not  ;.ll !  tor  part  is  behind  it, 
Lying  dropt  on  the  way  : 

T!  rt,  conld  two  but  find  it. 

Would  welcome  the  end  of  1  toy  I 

\V.  a  G 


JOY. 

I  have  learned  to  love  joy,  not  for  joy's 

sake  alone, 
But  because  of  the  sorrows  its  contrasts 

have  shown. 
Wherever  the  sunlight  falls  brightest,  the 

shade 
Slants   longest   and   farthest.      O   I    am 

afraid 
To  love  joy  for  joy's  sake! — and  I  only 

will  ask 
In  its  rapture  and  radiance  and  glory  to 

bask 
Until   my   soul   glows   with   such   warm 

sympathy 
That  some  who  are  joyless  may  joy  find 

in  me. 

Ella  A.  Giles. 


THE  VALUE  OF  GTF1 

r  Lave  learned  fcopri  ,  not  for  I 

happiness, 
But  because  when  it  comes  my  own  glad 
i  Mess 
1th  its  s .         obtOeperfuii]         tropica] 

ronger  life's  labors  and  J. it: 
m« 
Withhold  from  me  love  and  I  rare  not 

live— 
For  wh  oied  me  I  ha 

give 
15 1  t  B.  11  gi 

I  p:  ' 
As   they  1  ii  an  1  :i   my  soul's 

thiee. 

77a  .1  s. 


CHEEK! 

"The  faithful  are  few," 

A  young  man  said, 

With  drooping  head; 

"And  men  are  many, 

And  hard  for  any 
It  is  the  right  to  do." 

•Turn  the  words  about/9 

An  old  man  said, 

And  lifted  up  his  head, 

And  from  his  eyes  shone  out 

A  holy  light  and  true : 
"  The  faithful  are  few, 

Say  not;  but  rather,  a  few 

Are  faithful ;  and  so  be  you ! 

For  men  are  many, 

And  strength  for  any 
There  is  the  right  to  do." 

James  Vila  Blake. 


HEROISM. 
We  honor  Jill  the  conquerors  of  old 

Whose  patient  courage  won  snah  glorious 

fame 
That  ever  since  their  deeds  have  been  I 

told. 

And  laurels  wreathed  jiromid  each  death- 
less nan 

We  live  again   through  all  their  anxious 

And  heartsick,  sleepless  nights  with  (Lin- 
ger near, 

Before  tormenting  blame  h;id  turned  to 
praise, 

ight         Baa  had  yielded  honors 

ar. 

And  jet  I  think  tb  -.  who  Blight 

in    estimate    each    pain   and    know   the 
cost, 


130  HEROISM. 

Look  down  on  just  such  noble  souls  to- 
night, 

Who  stand  for  right,  though  faint  and 
tempest-tossed, 

And  crown  them  heroes  too  in  heavenly 
sight, 

Although  their  names  may  be  forever  lost. 

Emma  E.  Marean. 


FREEDOM. 

I  do  rec:;H  I  n  I  was  fr 

Or  it  BO  I  itfafo]  will. 

What  t  ime  as  yet  Phi  i  i  1, 

-Vlld  111; 

louarch  seemed  I  then  I         .  — 
1  adown  t\ 
Or  vied  in  boyhood's  sunny  \  — 

till 
1  tasl  nl  foul. 

But  now  I  am 

.11    II         :o    li: 

Destroyed  my    fancied    freedom,    bl 

show 
That  th 

ID  {••;:• 

/;.  B.  Bui 


BEONTE. 


Triad  of  noble  hearts  and  nobler  minds ! 

Needs  not  the  worker  of  these  happier 
years 

Think  on  their  yearnings,  trials,  bitter 
tears, 

Their  fond  hopes  long  delayed  till  outlet 
finds 

Their  best  and  bravest,  and  the  dull 
world  blinds 

With  blaze  of  genius  towering  o'er  its 
fears ; 

The  Spring  holds  all  the  bounteous  Sum- 
mer wears; 

In  thought  bloom  buds  despoiled  by 
cruel  winds; 

And  oh!  when  glows  the  heart  with  pur- 
pose high, 

When  work  the  human  hands  unfalter- 
ingly, 


BR0N1  l    3 

II  cample  to  the  ra 

:  their  i         "  thoug  h  1  itei  ing 

(  their  mg     lives    a 

t:.        y, 

Will   hath  won,    I       b  wean  b 

lis  fa 

A 


GEOBGE  ELIOT. 

On  reading  a  Sonnet  in  "  The  Critic''''  so  entitled. 

Linger,  O  world,  above  her  place  of  rest, 
And  muse  on  one  who  nobly  wrought  for 

thee, 
Who,  pitying,  saw  thy  pain  and  misery, 
And  toiling  to  relieve  it,  so  was  blest. 
Brave  was  she,  and  her  courage  stands 

confessed ; 
For  rare  gifts  nobly  used,  O  brothers,  see 
Her  life  receive  its  praise  of  victory; 
And  you,  her  sisters,  weep  not  that  her 

breast, 
Once  warm  for  you,  is  silent  'neath  the 

snow; 
Your  souls  wrap  in  the  strength  of  her 

calm  thought, 


Gl  ELIOT, 

Bet  keen,  i         i  won  toll  it ; 

re  tor  those  from  work  a  'lit 

who  for  good  have  only  c\  il  brought, 
r  For  those  id  T 


lit! 


-  r  i         //. 


INTEGEE  VITiE. 

Pure  in  heart  and  free  of  sin, 
Upright  in  thy  daily  path; 
Fair  without  and  true  within, 
Free  from  anger,  safe  from  wrath. 

Mighty  in  thy  silent  power 

Of  great  virtue  over  wrong; 

Beautifying  every  hour 

By  thy  bearing,  brave  and  strong : 

By  thy  mercy  to  the  weak ; 
By  thy  justice  to  the  low; 
By  thy  grace  unto  the  meek ; 
By  thy  kindness  to  thy  foe. 

Thou  art  free  from  passion's  rage, 
Thou  art  free  from  envy's  sting, 
Thou  canst  others'  griefs  assuage, 
Canst  to  others  comfort  bring. 


INTEGER   yitj:.  i:;; 

R     -■  and  real  we  in  thy  soul, 

inging  joy  into  thy  1; 
Outward  storms  around  thee  roll, 
But  they  bring  no  inward  strife. 

And  a  sinner,  tired  and  worn, 
Weary  of  his  life,  at  length 
Findi'th  in  thy  words  newr  hope — 
Findeth  courage  in  thy  strength. 

Florence  Tyn<j  OriswoUL 


THE  MINISTER'S  JOURNEY. 

To  J.  W.  C,  Dec.  19,  1884. 

Not  to  the  lanes  of  England, 
Cathedral- aisles  of  France, 

Nor  up  the  mountain-hollows 
Where  Alpine  torrents  glance; 

Nor  in  the  storied  cities 
And  old  highways  of  life, 

Where  shadowy  generations 

Have  passed  in  song  and  strife ; 

Where  Raphael  hath  painted, 

Or  Socrates  was  born, 
Or  prophets  once  were  cradled 

In  some  Nazareth  of  scorn; 

But  on  a  more  wonderful  journey 
Than  any  the  pilgrims  know 

Our  traveler  has  been  roving, — 
The  book  in  his  heart  can  show. 


THE  .\'iy  TOURNEY 

He  has  v 

\\  ■".•  ■  I  the  b  as  of  thou 

li  them  the  tenipe 
Haiti  ith  them  the  port. 

An  '  a  dreamer's  island 

I  las  added  to  his  lore 
Th  e  that  made  it  Fatnios, — 

ne  Heaven]  d  moi 

Iu  I  unholy 

-ied  from  every  ol 
me  treas ure -trove  reporting 
Horizons  new  of  God, 

Till  Heathenesse  grew  home-like, — 
While  the  traveller's  tale  i        rill 

Of  the  Ceaseless  Care  whofl    |  :       :.ee 
Out-  i  good  from  ill. 

mto  B  es, 

Ti.  tines  within. 

By  pathways  of  the  Spirit. 
Our  traveller  hath  been. 

In  -till  of  confession. 

r. 


140    THE  31INISTEKS  JOURNEY. 

On  Alps  of  high  endeavor, — 
We  met  him  everywhere ! 

He  knows  the  founts  of  laughter ; 

How  psalms  in  mothers  rise ; 
How  purpose  dawns  in  manhood, 

And  love  in  maiden  eyes. 

Along  the  silent  beaches 

That  men  call  Birth  and  Death, 

Rimming  our  fields  of  summer, 
Giving  us  ocean-breath, 

He  paces  as  a  watcher 
"Watching  the  tidal  sweep, 

And  his  greeting  is  full  of  music 
Caught  from  the  central  deep. 

The  others  see  but  Europe, 
And  go  as  feet  may  fare ; 

Our  pilgrim,  still  outsailing, 
Sees  many  an  Outre-Mer! 

W.  C.  Gannett. 


DEDICATION  HYMN. 

O  God!  bo         the  gift  wo  bring, — 
This  house  of  ]  last  complete; 

w  aa  a  grateful  offering 

Wegkdly  lay  it  i  I    Thy  feet 

All  was  Thine  own  eiv  ;t  was  on 
And  since  'tis  ours,  'tis  Thine  the  mo 

re  Thin  I  all  our  p  . — 

O  Thou,  our  L  horn 

L*  e  walls  a  lovi'  . 

i  and  poor  shall 
TJ  may  I 
Wl  y  dwell  in  char: 

Long  b 
Where  bo 

Look  upward  to  aF 

An  t  So  I  (heir  bard  y. 


142  DEDICATION  HY3IN. 

This  church  we  dedicate  to  Light, — 
To  Light  of  Truth  and  Light  of  Love, 

To  Hope,  to  Faith,  to  Prayer,  to  Eight, 
To  man  on  earth,  to  God  above. 

As  shines  the  light-house  by  the  sea 
To  guide  the  sailor  on  his  way, 

So  may  this  church  a  beacon  be 

To  light  man  onward  toward  the  day. 

Jabez  T.  Sunderland. 

Ann  Arbor,  Michigan, 
Nov.  1,  1882. 


DEFEAT. 

plan  and  plan  when  lifo  is  youi 
And  ;  d  go  to  meet  the  jeers 

Almost  without  a  fear;  we  woo 
The  future;  bright  the  way  i 

But  still  do  plan  and  purpose  fail, 
Strength  and  occasion  rarely 
And  i  iy  down  life's  western 

On  everything  we  read — deft*.   . 

And  as  man  sees,  defeat  is  true. 
;-  rounded  to  its  d 
ch  soul  in;  the  Be.-*  is  lost; 

But  shadows  of  ourselves  v 

I  do  we  gain,  as  still  wo  lo 
•  imp         bed  by  gifts, 
lied  by  failure,  nor  appal] 
By  all  we  learn, — the  curtain  li: 


144  DEFEAT. 

From  the  immeasurable  years, 
And  side  by  side  ourselves  we  see 
As  we  are  now,  and  would  have  been, 
Slaves  and  in  thrall, — divinely  free. 

And  bitter  is  the  burning  thought 
Of  failure,  to  th'  impassioned  soul; 
Drowned  in  the  depths  is  sweet  content, 
Even  over  hope  the  billows  roll. 

But  when  that  larger  wisdom  comes, 
Toward  which  we  grope  with  faltering 

feet, 
I  think  we  may  have  grace  to  thank 
God  even  for  such  sore  defeat. 

For  of  defeat,  success  is  born, 
And  out  of  failure  cometh  strength, 
The  discipline,  the  courage  grand, 
That  give  proud  victory  at  length, — 

"When  loss  grows  greater  gain,  and  joy 
At  last  sits  master,  king,  and  lord, 
That  joy  far  nobler  than  we  sought, 
Living  with  God  in  fine  accord. 


DEFEAT.  146 

ne  write  failure  till  they  d 
lis  DOW  ad  .  ami  now  retreat, 

r  ran  the     be  while  God  exists 
A  real  and  absolute  defeat. 

I J  attic  Tyng  Ch        id. 


THE  NEW  YEAR. 

"Behold," — in  vision  said 

The  Voice  to  John  on  Patmos — 

"  I  make  all  things  new! " 

Vanish  before  his  view 

The  earth  and  heavens  old; 

In  splendor  manifold 

New  heavens  and  earth  appear 

To  the  enraptured  seer : 

And  lo !  descending  from  the  skies, 

Fairer  than  storied  paradise, 

He  saw  the  New  Jerusalem, — 

Apparelled  as  a  bride 

With  gold  and  precious  gem, — 

And  heard  a  Voice  that  cried : 

"  God's  dwelling  is  with  men, 

"  And  He  will  wipe  away  all  tears, 

"And  death  shall  be  no  more,  nor  pain; 


THE  NEW  YEAR.  1  17 


"  P         I  are  the  things  of  I  rs: 

••  ft  bold,  r  make  all  thi 

M  Write:  for  faithful  are  these  words  and 
true:' 

So  sjx^aks  to  thee,  0  heart. 

As  the  swift  ;  depart 

The  r        sting  Voicb. 

Turn  not  in  vain  regi 

To  thy  fond  yesterday 

But  rather  forward  set 

Thy  face  toward  the  untrodden  wa; 

0}>en  thine  e;  >  see 

The  good  in  store  for  thee, — 

B,  new  thought,  new  i  oo 

S  Him  who  daily  maketh  thy  life  new. 

r  think  thou  aught  is  L 
Or  left  behind  upon  the  silent  c 
Of  thy  spent  years  ; 

r  thy  faithless  fears. 

Whatever  •  d — 

Of  thought,  <>r  deed,  or  holier  mood — 

Thy  1  ttfa  known 

AbiiL-tli  .-till  thine  own, 
And  hath  within  signitieanoe 
Of  ritanoe. 


148  THE  NEW  YEAR. 

Thy  good  is  prophecy 

Of  better  still  to  be, 

In  the  future  thou  shalt  find 

How  far  the  Fact  hath  left  behind 

Thy  fondest  Dreams;    how    deej>er  than 

all  sense 
Or  thought  of  thine,  thy  life's  sure 

Providence  ! 

F.  L.  Hosmer. 


THE  PAS 

no  past?    Nay,  what  i  :it 

sweetness 

But  yi         ;  In  to- 

ast?   It  ii  com- 

}>I  <s, 

And  scarce  from  i  L  ear 

■ 

jr. 

These  berries,   mottling   blue   tho   r 

Still   cl  with  the  blossom-trick    <»f 

Jrnit  : 
The  cloud-led 

How 
O'-  a  sun-M        I   by   oentories   of 

noon: 
Yon  ago  I  pine  w 

ture 
When  bustling  win  la  pani  by  in  wild  s< 

mood: 


150  THE  PAST. 

The  valley's  grace  in  all  its  shining  ves- 
ture,— 
Ages  have  carved  it  from  the  solitude : 
Low  sings  the  stream  in  murmurs  faint  re- 
calling 
The  chant   of    floods   the   solitude   once 

heard ; 
And  this  wide  quiet  on  the  hill-tops  falling 
Made  hush   at  eves  that   listener    never 
stirred. 

And  as  on  us  it  falls,  our  laughter  stilling, 

Dim  echoes  cross  it  of  all  old  delight ! 

The  joy,  along  the  soul's  far  reaches 
thrilling 

To  glory  of  the  summer  day  and  night, 

Has  been  inwrought  by  many  a  summer- 
hour 

Of  past  selves  long  forgot, — enrichment 
slow, 

Attuning  mind  and  heart  with  mystic 
power 

To  the  fresh  marvel  of  this  sunset's  glow. 

I  think  we  see  our  valley's  brightness 
brighter 


THE  PAS 

Far   hoes  that  anoe  brightened   by  oar 
le; 

the  eternal  monntaine  deep 
\  v  bai  I  <>n  Eaoee  that  hi. 

died. 

Pattf     Nay.    what    is   j>r- 

ir  yesl  in  t<>-il 

t—  it  Bowers  in  every 

pleteiu 
Of  thought,  faith,  hop 
fur  aye! 

ir.  a  Q       tt. 

SSET  ON   i4Ci:o\v    N 

August,  Uti 


A   KOXJNDEL. 

"  Others  he  saved .  himself  he  could  not  save." . 

The  poet's  heart  breathed  out  a  song  so 

rare 
Its    rapture   bade    ail    earth-born    cares 

depart. 
Men    thought    they    read,     revealed    in 

beauty  there, 

The  poet's  heart. 

Its  words  held  naught  of  earthly  sting  or 

smart, 
But   touched   with   healing    comfort    all 

despair  ; 
In  lonely  lives  it  helped  fresh  blossoms 

start ; 


A    ROUNDEL. 

•    |   :;  QJ    |  '      I    soul    it 

ijet  ; 

And  no  oue  dreamed  h 

art 
To   still   the  woarv    thoughts    that   filled 

with  car^ 

Tbe  poet's  heart 

Em  in' i  K.  M  >K 


A  CONCLUSION. 

Help  us  to  bear  the  doubts  we  cannot 
solve, 

To  keeiD  a  willing'  hand,  a  cheerful  heart, 

With  which  to  bravely  do  our  utmost 
part, 

To  heal  all  wrong  and  sin  ;  to  help  dis- 
solve, 

Into  high,  trustful  deed  and  pure  resolve, 

The  restless  yearnings  of  the  troubled 
heart, 

Depressing  fears,  the  doubts  which  burn 

and  smart. 

Oh,  weary  thoughts  that  ceaselessly  re- 
volve 

Within  the  tired  brain,  ye  bring  no  rest 

Of  healing  on  the  wings  strained  in  the 
quest 

Of  truth  beyond  all  mortal  ken  below  ! 


A   CONCLUSIO 

TIhmi    errant    m  4    to  do  t] 

Wl       i  h;>{]\  can   and  may,  not   what   ( 

Would. 

Lord,   is  all  the  prayer  I  ma! 
know. 

(  i  Ha  /'.  Wood 


INDEX. 

PAGE 

Blake,  James  Vila 

Cheer, 

- 

128 

In  Him, 

- 

44 

Tbe  Old  Answer  to  the 

Old  Ques- 

tion,       - 

- 

29 

Sursum  Corcla, 

- 

74 

Wait  on  the  Lord, 

- 

15 

Patience, 

- 

56 

Brotherton,  Mss.  Alice 

Williams 

In  the  King's  Name, 

- 

24 

Outward  Bound, 

- 

85 

Sunset  after  Storm,     - 

- 

105 

Wooing  and  Wedding, 

- 

63 

Brown,  Edwin  G. 

A  Prayer, 

- 

45 

Bulkeley,  Benjamin  B. 

Freedom, 

- 

131 

Driscoll,  Fanny 

Aster  and  Goldenrod, 

- 

80 

Death, 

- 

26 

151 


'/. 

Lilies,        - 

111 

Pain,     ----- 

i> 

1:                - 

, 

Love,    ----- 

7  1 

V.    vsofl 

7J 

v.  WnjiiAH  1 

thedral,  'J' 

82 

••  ( treeo      I'.                 an  1 

Waters,*1        - 

0 

I'i  T\v<            ...          . 

Mini 

188 

"Not  All  Tb 

124 

. 

149 

P  n  a  and   1 

ry,  - 

in 

NNETl                                   M. 

. 

132 

George  Eli<>t,     - 

\   A. 

Joy,      -         -         - 

Value  of  1                    - 

.  >.  M;^     Fu 

/               '                   ... 

i>.   Mi;-.    II  \i 

0                    .  -        -        -        - 

116 

- 

Window  Picture,  A    - 

90 

158  INDEX. 


PAGE 


Hosmer,  Frederick  L. 

Children's  Service,  The  -         -  53 

Father,  to  Thee,         -         -  -     13 

Loyalty,  18 

My  Dead,           -         -         -  -31 

•      New  Year,  The       -         -         -  146 

On  the  Mount,  -         -         -  -     86 

Long,  Miss  Liet  A. 

Harebell,  A  Certain,        -         -  119 

His  Reverie,       -         -         -  -     69 

Shadows,        -         -         -         -  93 

To  Katherine.    -         -         -  -     73 

Trusting,       -         -         -         -  23 

Lord,  Welelam  S. 

Water  Lilies,     -         -         -  -     41 

September  Twenty-fifth,           -  67 

McCaine,  Miss  J.  E. 

I  Am  So  Weak,  48 

Moods,      -----  87 

Marean,  Mrs.  Emma  Endicott 

Before  the  Dawn,   -         -         -  39 

Heroism,  -----  129 

"  Not  as  I  Will,"  20 

One  Woman's  Work,         -  -     57 

Roundel,  A    -         -         -         -  152 

Vineta, 77 

Plummer<  Miss  Mary  W. 

"  And  Enoch  Walked  with  God,"  33 


INDEX. 

L6  1 

PAGE 

IVn:!:.   Mfi&    1 

Epignea, 

-     iia 

Mi;-.   BIjd 

A  Day  in  S}>;in:_r. 

- 

My  0  '._r  and  My  Soul,  - 

121 

'RIOO,  J.   X. 

The  Heart  ] 

- 

Why  Ask  I  1 

104 

.  Miaa  1 

I       .--        -        - 

-  KH 

T. 

lK-di          i  Hymn,  - 

• 

-       141 

Tor 

>. tiling  by  Moonlight, 

-  107 

Turns,  John 

Ljros,  - 

7 

Wl                    !   H. 

B< 

-  1 

Victory  Through  Snfferis 

42 

Wn                             Win 

."     - 

-     48 

Greed,  The    - 

11 

••  Heini-ssioii."     - 

-     51 

W.m.miv,   MB&   OeUA   P. 

•i.  A 

1 5 1 

Old  (             u   The    - 

- 

Bet          L         .    - 

IS 

k 


